


Strangers

by Lothiriel84



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Family, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:55:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is a stranger in an open car / To tempt you in and drive you far away (Eurythmics)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue – A Magician Never Reveals

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Het Big Bang at het_bigbang on LJ. A huge thank you to my beta Miss Peg and to tromana, who helped me develop the plot.

The coin flashed briefly between his fingers, then disappeared. There it was, and the next moment it was gone again.

It wasn’t that Patrick Jane still needed to practice his sleight of hand; he’d been doing the trick since he was seven years old, and now he was almost eighteen. However, it helped him clear his mind, and therefore relax a bit before the show.

He needed to be at his best for his magic to work, and though he hated what he did for a living, he didn’t have much of a choice. One day he would leave the carnival for good and get a new life, far away from a world that had never been his own.

Until then, magic tricks were a well settled routine he still had to go through.

It took him a while to notice a girl who was staring at him from the door of her trailer. He was vaguely aware of her being the renowned _Girl Wonder_ , but he’d never actually caught her real name.

“What are you doing?” he asked bluntly. The last thing he was looking forward to was having an audience in his spare time.

“Watching. I never knew it was a crime.”

“I don’t like being watched without my consent.”

The girl smirked and took a few steps towards him. “You’re a performer, you should be used to having other people watching you.”

Patrick just shrugged and made to leave. He didn’t like the girl’s pertness, all he wanted was to be left alone.

However, she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “What’s the trick?”

“What?”

“The coin. How do you manage to do it?”

It was his turn to smirk now. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”

The girl crossed her arms, a smug look written all over her face. “Your tricks are all you have, aren’t them? Your parents only value you as a source of income, otherwise they would have probably given up on you a long time ago. That’s why you can’t wait to grow up and leave this place behind you.”

His eyes narrowed at those words. The girl had just hit a sore spot, reading his innermost thoughts and fears as if he were an open book.

“How do you…” he began, but she cut him short almost instantly.

“I don’t reveal my secrets either.”

With that she walked away, leaving a bemused Patrick to mull over what had just happened.

 

* * *

 

Playing the Girl Wonder wasn’t an easy task even for a honed con artist like Angela Ruskin.

Meeting people’s expectations was a stressful job, even more so when it came to her father. She always had to work relentlessly in order to sharpen her observations skills, and the consequences of the smallest of failures could definitely be unpleasant.

Her brother Danny had learned it the hard way when he almost drowned in a Chinese Water Torture Cell because their father refused to help him. He was an escape artist, and no mistakes were allowed in such a line of work.

Pulling her psychic act didn’t expose Angela to the same risks, but it was true that a disappointed client could be even more dangerous than a glass tank full of water sometimes. And her father wasn’t gentle on her either.

The very few moments she was allowed to escape such a pressure were those she got to spend with Patrick. It always took her quite an effort in order to sneak behind her father’s back, but the prospect of running into her boyfriend’s welcoming arms was totally worth any punishment that might follow.

In spite of his initial dislike for her, the young magician was head over heels in love with her now. He was still skeptical about her supposed gift, that was true; _there’s no such thing as psychics_ was a statement she’d heard from him time and time again, and it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for them to argue over the subject as well.

However, their arguments always ended up with her pinned against a wall while Patrick’s mouth ravished her own. And in spite of all her complaints, she actually didn’t mind in the slightest.

 

* * *

 

The night before Angela’s eighteenth birthday they fled from the carnival at long last. By the time their parents noticed their absence, they would already be married and on their way to California.

It was the first state that had come to their minds because it was sunny and warm, and as good a place as any for two runaways who wanted to start a new life together.

They exchanged their vows in Vegas; he wasn’t exactly pleased that all they could afford for their wedding night was a shabby motel room with worn-out mustard wallpaper and faded curtains, with a small window. It wasn’t what he wanted for Angela, but they were together at last and that was all that mattered.

“There’s a strange feeling to this place,” he heard her murmuring as she idly ran a finger along the headboard of the double bed.

“Please, Angie. The last thing we need tonight is someone spying on us, be it a ghost or a live being.”

“The dead are always with us.”

The inviting look on her face was all it took for him to step forward and gather her in his arms. “Let them look if they want. You’re mine, and mine only.”

His nimble fingers made quick work of her dress, and in no time they were both naked and heady with desire. Later on she rested her head against his heart as they tried to catch their breath, sweat cooling on bare skin.

They slept soundly for the rest of the night. The future was in their hands, and they didn’t doubt it was going to be a happy one.

Only time would tell.


	2. Chapter 1 – And The Mighty Will Fall

“You promised you’d take me to the beach today!”

Angela let out a soft sigh before turning to face her daughter. It was a shame that she was seldom able to keep her promises, even more so when it came to Charlotte.

However, she had a couple of wealthy clients to meet in the morning; then she had to call Sac PD to see if they needed another reading on the Red John case. As likely as not she would have to drive all the way to Sacramento, and would probably be gone for a couple of days.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Mommy is very busy right now, but I’m sure that Daddy will be happy to come with you instead.”

The little girl looked away and fled the room. Angela bit her lip when she felt her husband’s reproachful eyes on her, she knew that she should be spending more time with their daughter but she really had a hard time fitting her in between all of her appointments.

“You will take her to the beach, right?” she almost pleaded.

“Of course I will,” he huffed. “That’s not the point though.”

“I just need a bit more time. Once the Red John case is closed, I will take her wherever she wants.”

“She doesn’t want to go anywhere. All she’d like to have is some time with her Mom.”

“It’s easy for you to talk. I’m the one who keeps this roof over our heads and food on the table, if I don’t do the work, we could lose everything.”

Patrick grimaced slightly, and she instantly regretted her words. It was hard enough for him to admit that his magic act would never be enough for them to get by; after all, it wasn’t his fault if people were more interested in psychics than in simple magicians these days.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated for what felt the umpteenth time. “It’s this consulting thing with the police that gets on my nerves. I can’t wait for it to be over and done with.”

“You shouldn’t meddle with a serial killer. It’s dangerous, and you know it.”

“I’m helping the cops to catch him. What’s wrong with that?”

“I have a bad feeling about this whole business.”

She closed the distance between them and placed a soothing kiss on his lips. “What about your _there’s no such thing as psychics_? You’re definitely talking like one now.”

Her husband shook his head. “Be careful, Angie.”

However, she only smiled as she left the room.

 

* * *

 

“I wish you wouldn’t go.”

His wife was staring at her reflection in the mirror, her head tilted to one side in order to better appreciate the sparkle of the dangly earrings she was wearing. She surely was beautiful, but he simply couldn’t bring himself to appreciate the fact tonight.

“It’s just a TV show, and they’re paying good money for my appearance,” she replied in a lighthearted tone. “Then I can afford to take a break from work and spend more time as a family.”

Patrick took a step closer and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You should think twice before attracting a serial killer’s attention. It’s a dangerous game, someone might get hurt in the process.”

Truth be told, he was growing more and more worried about this whole business with every passing moment. And it didn’t matter that he’d already agreed to escort her to the interview, he still hoped she would change her mind about it.

“Let’s go. We’re going to be late.”

Angela barely seemed to notice the resigned look on his face; she only adjusted his tie and wandered off in search of their daughter.

“You’re going to be a good girl, aren’t you?” he heard her ask from the threshold of Charlotte’s room.

The little girl nodded meekly, her eyes wide with wonder at her mother’s attire. “You look like a princess, Mommy!”

She didn’t complain this time, as Angela dropped a kiss on top of her head and made to leave. Then she threw her slender arms around her father’s neck.

“Sweet dreams, Precious.”

Charlotte’s smile followed him all the way to the car, and he blew her a kiss before finally getting in. The babysitter would take good care of her, but he still hated to be parted from his daughter even for a few hours.

He simply couldn’t wait to be home again.

 

* * *

 

The house was dark and silent as she shut the front door and made for the stairs. Patrick had sneaked to the living room for a belated cup of tea, but she was way too tired to keep him company this time.

It didn’t help that her husband hadn’t uttered a word the whole drive back. He still didn’t approve of what she’d done, only was too polite to argue over it again.

In the half-light she saw a note taped to the bedroom door; it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the babysitter to leave one when she knew they would come home to find Charlotte already asleep. However, this one was typed instead of handwritten, and a shiver ran down her spine while a sense of foreboding swept over her.

 _Dear Mrs. Jane_ – that was how the note began, and she didn’t stop to read the rest. Her hand trembled on the doorknob as she turned it, her eyes widened with fear when an ominous face smiled back at her from the opposite wall.

Then her gaze landed on the bed, where the butchered body of her daughter laid among bloodstained sheets. And her toenails were painted in red.

After that everything was a blur. Angela was vaguely aware of someone screaming; whether it was her or someone else, she just couldn’t say. The world started spinning around her, crimson shadows reaching for her like pursuing Furies.

She dropped to her knees, shaking Charlotte’s limp body with desperate fingers. The little girl didn’t stir, her skin ice cold and her blood as sticky as strawberry jam.

Merciful darkness swallowed her at long last, and her eyes saw no more.


	3. Chapter 2 – Shatter

Charlotte’s body had long been removed, but he just couldn’t stop staring at the dark stains on the mattress. His daughter had been so full of life when he’d kissed her goodnight only a few hours ago, and now he was having a hard time adjusting to the concept that he was never going to see her again.

Never again would she throw herself into his welcoming arms, nor dare him to catch her as she ran along the seashore. Her laughter wouldn’t grace their empty home anymore.

He felt nothing as his eyes were drawn to the red smiley face painted on the wall, only a pitch black emptiness right where his heart had been. He should be crying now, but his eyes were dry and no tears would come.

Long wailing sobs came from the floor where his wife was still slumped, and all of a sudden he couldn’t bear it anymore.

“For goodness’ sake, Angela, just shut up!”

Teary eyes met his own. “Our daughter is dead.”

“And guess whose fault is it?” he said bitterly.

She recoiled as if she’d been hit, grief and guilt written all over her face. “Don’t say that.”

Anger bubbled up inside of him, and he all but laughed in her face. “That wouldn’t stop it from being the truth. Charlotte would still be alive had you kept your big mouth shut, and you know it.”

“Patrick, please…”

“I practically begged you not to go and speak about Red John on TV, but you didn’t listen. You never listen to me, Angela – and look what has happened.”

“I’m sorry. I – I would do anything to undo what I’ve done.”

“Well, that’s not enough. Our daughter is dead; she’s gone, and nothing will bring her back.”

“I didn’t think…”

“That’s exactly the point,” he retorted bitterly. “You never think. Sometimes you manage to get away with it, but this time our kid has been the one to pay for it.”

“And I will hate myself to my dying day for that.”

He shook his head. “This is just another of your lies. And I’m sick and tired of them all.”

With that he walked away, not heeding her whimpers as she buried her face in her hands once more.

 

* * *

 

A dirty money grubbing fraud, that’s exactly what she was.

She threw back her head and laughed. Had she been a real psychic, she would be able to talk to her daughter now. Ask her the questions that had been plaguing her mind ever since she’d discovered her mutilated body.

Had Red John woken her up before killing her? Had he enjoyed the fear in her eyes before cutting through her flesh?

“Forgive me, honey,” she whispered to the white walls.

Too white. Those walls were too white, she had to do something about it.

Eager fingers delved into the flesh of her forearm, it was a pity that she always kept her nails so short. It didn’t matter, she had all the time in the world to reach her goal.

Too much time on her hands, for her husband still refused to come and see her.

Blood gushed from the scratches at last, and she dipped a fingertip into it. Red as ripe cherries, she wondered whether it would taste as good.

Then she started drawing another smiling face on the otherwise pristine wall.

A wry smile tugged at her lips at the thought of all the paint that had been used to cover up each and every one of her attempts so far. The shrink wasn’t going to be pleased at all when she saw one more, that was sure.

Angela didn’t care in the slightest.

 

* * *

 

Doctor Miller called to inform him that his wife was going to be released from the mental institution in a few days. He thanked her politely, but also made sure she understood he didn’t want to have anything to do with Angela anymore.

She was his wife in name only. There was no way he could bring himself to forgive her, not since her words were the reason why their daughter had been murdered. It was almost as if she’d killed Charlotte with her own hands, and he could never forget that.

He arranged for a message to be delivered to her as soon as she was out of the hospital. She could go back to their old house in Malibu, or take the money and leave for whatever destination.

However, he asked her not to try and contact him again. He was going to make sure that the man who’d killed their daughter was brought to justice, then disappear.

She was free to start a new life far from him, if that was what she wanted. He didn’t care either way.

When his lawyer announced that his wife was going to leave the state, go back to Iowa where Danny Ruskin still lived, Patrick almost heaved a sigh of relief.

He needed space for her, and it wasn’t a bad thing that she would have her brother to look after her. Danny wasn’t the most reliable person, but he would always be there for his beloved sister.

As for himself, he had things to do. He’d spent the last six months gathering information about Red John, and reading Angela’s old notes about the case too.

Now he fully intended to offer his services to the California Bureau of Investigation, which had recently taken over the case from Sac PD. They would probably be even more reluctant to have a victim’s relative investigate the case, but he would make sure they came to appreciate his skills.

He’d always been very observant ever since his childhood, and that was how he managed to make his magic work. All he had to do was turn his abilities to a different use, make sure that the serial killer paid for what he had done.

There would be plenty time for grief once his mission was accomplished.


	4. Chapter 3 – Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Patrick Jane’s quick eyes were able to locate Special Agent Minelli as soon as he stepped into the CBI bullpen. The man was talking to a petite brunette, probably one of his agents briefing him about a case.

As he casually drifted in their general direction he was able to catch snippets of their conversation.

“They drank tea from the same pot, sir – and all the witnesses are adamant that our suspect couldn’t have put anything in the victim’s cup without them noticing it.”

“I would bet my bottom dollar that Mr. Jackson didn’t commit suicide. It’s murder alright, Agent Lisbon – and you have to prove it.”

“I know, sir, but…”

“Did the suspect rush to the bathroom shortly after drinking their tea?”

As he dropped his hint two pair of eyes turned on him, and Virgil Minelli looked definitely annoyed at the interruption.

“Mr. Jane, I thought I had made myself clear. We don’t need your services, and you can’t stay here.”

Patrick forced a charming smile to his lips, the one he specially reserved for the audience of his magic tricks. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“What has that to do with anything?”

The brunette however looked suddenly interested. “She did, actually. All the statements say that Mrs. O’Neill briefly excused herself to the ladies’ restroom. I can’t see the link though.”

He rewarded her with one of those dazzling grins that only came with years of practice. “There’s a thing called emetic, Agent. It causes instant vomiting, and therefore a person can empty their stomach before a poison they have ingested takes effect.”  

The woman exchanged a quick look with Minelli. “It would make sense.”

“Make sure that your men check out Mr. Jane’s theory. As for you, Mr. Jane – my office, now.”

Agent Lisbon’s eyes followed him all the way out. It looked like he had made quite an impression today, and he hoped it would be enough to pave the way for his future cooperation with the CBI.

He would do better than any fake psychic when it came to consulting on a case anyway.

 

* * *

 

Walking into the bullpen bright and early in the morning, Teresa Lisbon paused to stare at the recumbent form of her newly hired consultant. It seemed like he’d spent the night on that couch he’d dragged in from somewhere; his clothes were rumpled and his hair disheveled.

However, he looked momentarily at peace, and a warm smile crept to her lips.

In spite of his show of carelessness and joviality, she could see through the cracks in his well-constructed mask. The man was more broken than he would ever care to admit, she was sure that he’d rather die than admit to his own vulnerability.

His precious daughter had been murdered, and the only person he could turn to now was also the woman he still blamed for his loss. And even though she didn’t approve of Mrs. Jane’s rashness, she couldn’t help but hope for a reconciliation between husband and wife at some point.

They should be grieving their child together, instead of adding more heartbreak to each other’s burden.

She wandered off to the kitchenette, trying to remember the lecture he’d given her about the art of brewing tea a couple of days ago.

Patrick Jane was a tea lover, and if the only thing she could do to ease his pain was bring him a steaming cup of Earl Grey, she would at least make sure it tasted exactly as he liked it.

That, and making sure the man who’d killed his daughter was sent straight to death row.

Lisbon smiled again as she placed the teacup next to him and headed to her office. He had been lucky he’d managed to solve a case he knew nothing about right before Minelli’s eyes, otherwise her boss would have never relented about his consulting position with the CBI.

And she surely wasn’t going to tell Minelli that Jane’s hunch came from one of Agatha Christie’s books he’d happened to read in his youth. He’d candidly admitted it to her once Mrs. O’Neill had cracked and confessed to the murder of her lover, and she hadn’t been able to hide a smile at his childlike delight in catching his first criminal.

She hoped this could be a baby step in the right direction, and that he was going to heal completely someday.

 

* * *

 

“Go home and change. You look a mess.”

He only smirked at Lisbon fussing over him in full mother hen mode. “Yes, Mom.”

“I mean it, Jane.”

For the briefest of moments he wondered how she would react if he dropped a kiss on her cheek before leaving. He decided she would probably slap him, but that was only because they were in a workplace in front of their colleagues, and her whole team too.

It didn’t help that he’d spent the last few weeks in denial about his latent feeling for his little firecracker of a boss. She was everything that Angela would never be, loyal and caring with a healthy dollop of stubbornness to complete the mix.

Teresa Lisbon was always trying to save the world, no matter if such a responsibility was too heavy for her shoulders. She was stronger than she looked anyway, had had her fair share of grief in her childhood, but that had only turned her into a better woman.

The fact that his feelings were entirely mutual went almost without saying. Lisbon was determined to fix him, to pick up his pieces and see him whole again.

Unfortunately, not even a woman that stubborn would ever be able to do as much. The tragedy that had befallen him had destroyed the love and trust he’d put in his wife, and no one could ever fix his broken heart.

In another life he would have met Lisbon under different circumstances, and they might have been entitled to their happy ending. In this life, however, he was still married to Angela and unwilling to burn his fingers again.

The fact that his wife had betrayed his trust didn’t mean he had stopped feeling responsible for her in spite of everything. That was the reason why he couldn’t bring himself to divorce her, let alone cheat on her with other women.

It was safer that he and Lisbon stayed just good friends. She was a good woman, and a good cop too; the last thing she needed was someone like him to jeopardize her life and the career that mattered so much to her. She deserved to be happy and loved, and she surely would be one day.

As for himself, he would disappear as soon as his task was accomplished.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t like her to snoop into private conversations, but it wasn’t the first time she’d happened to overhear a phone call between Jane and his brother-in-law, and it surely wouldn’t be the last.

Daniel Ruskin was nothing but persistent in pleading his sister’s case, even though it was quite apparent that Jane wasn’t going to relent anytime soon.

“I don’t care what she does, Danny,” she heard him utter as he paced the empty bullpen. “You’re her brother, it’s up to you to make her see reason.”

She shook her head and sighed. The burden of guilt that Angela Jane was carrying would be enough to break the strongest of wills, and she had a shrinking suspicion that the woman had always been more fragile than she liked to show.

Lisbon had seen her father spiraling out of control after the death of her mother, and he hadn’t even been the one responsible for it. He’d taken up drinking, turned her life and her brothers’ into a living hell before taking his own life.

Now she hoped that the same thing wasn’t going to repeat itself for Jane’s wife too. She cared for him, it was only natural for her to be worried about the wellbeing of his loved ones.

For she was sure he still cared for his wife even after all that had happened. He might not be able to see it yet, but he eventually would.

She didn’t want him to wake up someday to find that Angela was dead and gone, and the only thing he could do was bring flowers to her grave as a belated pledge of his forgiveness.

He deserved far better than this, and she would do everything in her power to assure that he didn’t waste his life in bitterness and regret.

As for herself, she would still have her job, and that had to be enough.


	5. Chapter 4 – Life Goes On

Angela woke up feeling nauseous and tired. It didn’t help that she’d been drinking the night before; she really shouldn’t, but the news she’d just received had thrown her even more off balance than she’d been in the last months.

The apartment she was sharing with her brother was a mess, empty bottles were littering the floor and the reek of cigarette smoke did nothing to help her nausea. Danny wouldn’t be happy when he came back home, he was the one who took care of her now in spite of being the youngest between them. 

A humorless laughter resonated in her throat. When Danny was a teenager she used to scold him for smoking and drinking too much, not to mention sleeping around. Now their roles had been reversed, as she desperately sought a way to numb the pain that never ceased to hunt her day and night.

She knew she would never get rid of the guilt over her daughter’s death, and she wasn’t even given the comfort of her husband’s forgiveness. Nothing she could do was ever going to be enough; Patrick still rushed to her side when she needed help, only to leave as soon as he’d fixed things.

It was a small consolation that he hadn’t asked for a divorce so far. Angela couldn’t help but hope that he would forgive her at long last, pick up the pieces of the marriage that had been the only good thing in her life. Even as she threw herself at other men time and time again, the one that really mattered to her would always be Patrick, and Patrick alone.

Now that some unexpected news had come upon her like a bolt from the blue, she really didn’t know what to do with herself. She stared at the crumpled piece of paper she’d been twiddling with for the better part of the night, then picked up her cellphone and hit the speed dial button.

 

* * *

 

They were in the middle of a case when Jane’s phone rang; Lisbon knew who the caller was even before he answered. The frown on his brow was eloquent enough, only his wife had such an effect on him.

He excused himself and walked away from the crime scene, and she saw him arguing with the person at the other end of the line before he turned around a corner and disappeared from her sight.

She had a shrinking suspicion that Jane was going to take the next flight for Iowa, as he often did after his wife’s calls. For all that he claimed he didn’t care for her anymore, he was always ready to run to her side whenever she needed.

Jane was definitely the devoted husband, it was a pity that he and Angela had drifted apart after the death of their daughter. It was said that a trouble shared is a trouble halved, while they were hurting each other even more instead.

Even though she’d made some feeble attempts at addressing the subject with him, he still refused to talk about his wife and there was nothing she could do to help them other than praying.

 

* * *

 

Jane winced slightly as the door opened to reveal Angela’s pale face. In spite of the heavy make-up she still looked a mess, and he wondered what she might have done this time.

In her last call she’d simply announced she needed to talk to him in person rather than over the phone, then refused to divulge any detail.

She gestured for him to sit down beside her on the sofa, but he only shook his head and waited for her to speak.

“There’s something you should know,” Angela murmured at long last, handing him a wrinkled piece of paper.

Jane blinked a couple of times when he realized it was the results of a pregnancy test.

“You should be showing this to the kid’s father,” he remarked bitterly. Of course he knew that his wife had been cheating on him, he’d figured as much even before Danny had confirmed his suspicions. However, it didn’t stop the notion from hurting, especially since she was now carrying another man’s child.

“I don’t know even know his name,” she admitted after a moment of silence, and he noticed that tears were rolling down her cheeks now, smudging them with mascara.

He fished in his pocket for his handkerchief and handed it over. “So you want me to help track him down?”

She shook her head, desperation and shame written all over her face. “I’ve slept with dozens of men in the last couple of months, most of them strangers that picked me up after a drink too many at the bar. How can I know who’s the father?”

His eyes met hers at last, and he couldn’t help a small pang of guilt over his wife’s current predicament. He was the one who deserted her, it didn’t matter if he’d had his reasons for doing as much. Deep down he’d always known that Angela was a weak woman, and that her faults were more a result of her upbringing than anything else.

And he was still her husband; he still had responsibilities towards her, he wasn’t going to expose her as a cheater after all she’d been through.

She’d loved Charlotte dearly, and was suffering from her loss as much as he did. Perhaps he should have been more firm back then, made sure that she didn’t meddle with the Red John business.

“I’m going to give the child my name,” he said wearily at length. “That’s all I can do for you.”

Angela stifled a sob and lowered her gaze. “You always said you wanted another kid. This baby could be our last chance, Patrick.”

“You seem to be forgetting that it’s not mine.”

“It would have been,” and her voice trembled as she reached for a pack of cigarettes. “It would have been, had I had it my own way.”

He snatched the unlit cigarettes from her fingers. “You’re pregnant, Angela. You have to quit smoking, for the child’s sake if not for yours.”

“Please, stay.”

For the briefest of moments his determination wavered, then the image of Charlotte’s butchered body flashed before his eyes once again.

“I can’t,” he whispered, though it broke his heart as well.

The world would probably regard him as a cold-hearted bastard deserting his pregnant and broken wife, but he knew it was far from the actual truth. And he didn’t care what other people thought of him anyway.

There were so very few things he’d really come to care about in his life, and one of them was lying under green grass. No child could ever take the place of his beloved daughter, no matter how much he might have wanted them to.


	6. Chapter 5 – No Matter How Far

Jane went back to his small apartment in Sacramento, and was cradling a glass of whiskey while musing over the mess that was his life now.

He was still married but couldn’t even bear the sight of his wife. His beloved daughter was dead, and now Angela was going to have a child with some random stranger.

He didn’t have the heart to divorce her, and yet there was no way he could bring himself to raise the kid with her. He guessed he was going to spend the rest of his days alone, waiting for that merciful release that would be his death.

It had better come quick, or he might be tempted to consider speeding up the process. Once the man who’d murdered Charlotte was caught, that was.

His cellphone rang again, he didn’t need to check the ID to know it was Lisbon. However, he was in no mood to talk to her, so he simply ended the call.

He knew she was probably worried about him by now, but what was he going to tell her?

_Sorry, Teresa – I’m feeling down because my wife is replacing our daughter with a child that is not my own._

It sounded quite pathetic, and he didn’t want her pity. It was bad enough being in love with his best friend, all the while knowing that he would never be free to love her as she deserved.

He grimaced as he took another sip of the strong beverage. He usually wasn’t one to drink alcohol, but he was desperate to forget tonight.

Some ten minutes later came a knock at the door, and he wasn’t actually surprised when he saw Teresa Lisbon through the peephole.

Up to that moment he hadn’t realized how much he needed her soothing presence. That was why he unlocked the door and let her in.

 

* * *

 

She didn’t need to ask to know that Jane was seriously upset tonight. It was written all over his face, and Lisbon wondered what his wife might have said or done for him to react that badly.

However, she had no right to poke her nose into their personal life. All she could do was to be there for her friend, offer him a supporting shoulder if he felt like crying.

“Wanna drink?” he asked neutrally, and she shook her head.

It was a relief to see that the bottle of whiskey standing on the coffee table was still quite full, and there were no other empty bottles around. Her past experience with her dad had taught her to read the signs, and she knew that Jane hadn’t tried to drink himself to sleep at the very least.

“If there’s anything I can do,” she began as she laid a tentative hand on his shoulder.

His green eyes locked with her own, and an awkward silence fell between them. Slowly he put down his empty glass and closed the distance between them.

Their lips were only an inch apart now, but she didn’t draw back. Her eyes fluttered shut almost against her will before his mouth covered her own.

They’d danced around each other for months now, and she needed little to no encouragement to give in to the feelings she’d tried to bottle up for so long. Just like a tiny spark igniting a blazing fire, his kiss had fueled the pent-up attraction she’d tried to deny for so long.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, she buried her fingers in the soft curls she’d never dared to touch before. His lips were demanding on hers, and she moaned deeply when his tongue flicked across the seam of her mouth. She happily granted him permission, pressing her body further against his own.

Things were quickly getting out of hand, it wouldn’t take long for them to reach the point of no return. It was only when his hand went to cup her cheek that she remembered about his wedding band, its metal smooth against her heated skin.

She broke the kiss, hearts pounding as their eyes met. Longing was unmistakable in his dilated pupils, and yet he seemed to understand at once.

“I’m sorry, Teresa,” he whispered softly, his brow resting against her own. “I shouldn’t be doing this to you. You’re a wonderful woman, and deserve so much more than I could ever give you.”

Lisbon allowed herself to relish his gentle embrace for a few more moments, then nodded silently and pulled back.

They exchanged a wistful look across the room before she could bring herself to step outside and shut the door. Life wasn’t fair, but it wasn’t much of a novelty for her; she could live with that.

And now she should definitely give Jane some space, try and forget what had almost happened tonight.

 

* * *

 

“You look good. Have you been seeing someone?”

He saw Lisbon pause momentarily, therefore confirming his suspicions. A week had passed since they’d almost ended up in bed together; rationally he knew he should be happy that she’d already moved on, but he couldn’t be farther from feeling that way.

The only silver lining to his current predicament was that he’d spent the better part of his life refining his poker face; he hoped it would be enough to hide his true feelings now.

“I went out with Mashburn,” she said with a shrug, staring at her coffee as if her whole life depended on it.

“Well, good for you. A bit of harmless fun does wonders for improving your job performance. I think I read an article about it the other day.”

She only gave him a half-hearted smile, then headed back to her office. He could tell she wasn’t happy, he just hoped she would be in time.

The notorious playboy wasn’t exactly the right man for her though, and he wished she would be able to see that. Lisbon deserved stability, not someone who considered women an enjoyable diversion and changed them as easily as others changed clothes.

As he sank into the welcoming softness of his worn-out leather couch he noticed something poking out between the cushions. He turned the letter in his hands before opening it, there was no address on the envelope but they wouldn’t have left it there if it hadn’t been for him.

In the end he tore it open and read the message.

 

_Dear Mr. Jane,_

_I’ve heard that your lovely wife has got over the grief for the death of your beautiful daughter quicker than you were expecting._

_I would say congratulations, but then it wouldn’t be appropriate since the child isn’t yours._

_Perhaps you should follow her example, father another child and forget about your Charlotte._

_Life goes on, my dear friend. Or that’s what they say, at the very least._

 

The sheet of paper fell from his trembling fingers, then he grabbed the nearest object and threw it against the wall. His favorite teacup shattered into a thousand of pieces, worried eyes turned to him from every corner of the bullpen.

He fled before any of his colleagues had the chance to ask him what was wrong.

 

* * *

 

Lisbon almost bumped into an old lady as she turned around the corner, she apologized shortly before continuing the chase. Luckily Jane had never been one to enjoy running, and it didn’t take her long to spot him as he strode along the riverside.

“Patrick, wait.”

He didn’t stop, only slowed down his pace and waited for her to catch up with him.

“I think I’ll take some personal time, Lisbon. Sorry I didn’t ask you in advance.”

She bit her lip and turned to face him. “I’ve seen the letter. Red John is just trying to mess with your mind. Don’t let him.”

His jaw tightened as he stared into the distance. “I know what he’s doing. My wife refused to play along with his little game of cat and mouse, and I’m the next best thing.”

“Revenge will get you nowhere, Jane.”

He clenched his fists, stubbornly avoiding her gaze. “Probably. But I really feel like throttling him with my bare hands.”

“We’ll catch him, I promise. Don’t do anything rash.”

When he met her eyes at last she knew he had eventually relented, and would allow her to help him in his pursuit for the serial killer.

Her arms wrapped around him in a comforting embrace, and she felt him reciprocate willingly. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t be together, and that she would probably never be able to settle for second best.

They were friends, and friends helped each other. Not to mention the fact that focusing on her job would also help her forget about the failure that her personal life was at the moment.

She only prayed that they got to Red John before he decided to raise the stakes and strike again.


	7. Chapter 6 – Somewhere I Belong

Angela was staring in awe at the little bundle of joy sleeping soundly in his crib. It wasn’t the first time she gave birth, but she seemingly had forgotten how tiny babies were.

Her fingers ghosted over the minute hands that were unconsciously clutching the blanket, and she felt the sudden urge to pick up the child and shower him with kisses. However, she didn’t want to interrupt her son’s much needed rest, so she merely brushed her lips over the soft skin of his cheek.

Her child was the single beautiful thing that she had left now, and she vowed she would fight tooth and nail in order to protect him. She’d already failed her daughter, she surely wasn’t going to repeat the same mistakes all over again.

And even though it was her fault that little David didn’t have a father, she could at least make sure to be a better mother to him than she’d been to Charlotte.

Perhaps she would be able to persuade her husband, in time, to share this gift from heaven as well. In her heart Patrick would always be the father of her child, no matter how she had actually conceived him. Family was so much more than blood ties, and she hoped that he would come to see it at last.

No kid could ever take the place of the daughter they had lost, but this was a new beginning. She was sure that her son would love and need her as much as she already loved and needed him, and that gave her a new strength she had thought she would never be able to find again.

David could really be her last chance at picking up the pieces of her relationship with her husband, and not just for her own sake. Patrick had retreated into himself ever since Charlotte’s death, what he had now couldn’t even be called a life. This kid might be a blessing for him as well, a new reason for living like he’d been for her right from the moment she’d held him in her arms for the first time.

It might take some time, that was true. He still stubbornly refused to come and see the baby, but she would come up with a plan in due course.

As of right now, she simply wanted to enjoy being a mother again. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world, one she had thought she was never going to experience again.

 

* * *

 

“You said you needed to see me. What have you done this time?”

He still couldn’t understand why he always ran to his wife’s side each and every time she called him; it seemed that he just couldn’t help it. The last time he’d been to Iowa she’d informed him she was pregnant, he wasn’t even sure he wanted to know what the mess he would have to fix this time.

“There’s something you have to see. Come with me.”

Wearily he followed her upstairs, and he never saw it coming as she placed the squirming baby boy into his arms.

“I told you I don’t want to have anything to do with your child.”

“He’s _our_ child, Patrick. I’m your wife, and every kid deserves a father in his life.”

“You should have thought twice before getting knocked up by some random guy then.”

A grimace of pain crossed Angela’s face, but she seemed determined not to lose her composure in front of him anymore.

“David can’t be held responsible for my mistakes. I don’t want him to pay for what I’ve done.”

“Well, that happened with Charlotte. Are you under any illusion that it’s going to be any different this time?”

It looked like he’d managed to get under her skin at last, for she turned pale as a sheet and abruptly left the room. As she slammed the door behind her, David started crying, and Patrick felt guilt wash over him at last.

He’d promised himself he wasn’t going to hurt Angela again, but he’d just done it and now an innocent baby was crying because of him. Perhaps he was really the bastard that people considered him to be; the notion that the child wasn’t his own didn’t entitle him to behave like that.

“Shush, little one. I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”

Eventually he managed to calm the child down and tucked him safely in his crib. Then he grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a quick note to his wife, apologizing for what he’d said but also reaffirming he couldn’t handle his supposed fatherhood.

He was sorry for little David, but that was how things were. He waited until he was far away from the house before breaking down and weeping at long last.

 

* * *

 

Tears were still running down her cheeks as Angela found her husband’s note. Her plan had backfired on her in ways she wasn’t expecting; Patrick was more broken than he liked to admit, and he’d never been one to wear his heart on his sleeve anyway.

However, he’d made sure that David was asleep before leaving the apartment, and that gave her a small glimpse of hope. He’d always been quite fond of children, and she suspected he felt guilty about leaving Charlotte’s little brother, in spite of everything.

She had to give him some space now; he needed time to wrap his head around the notion, but he would come around at some point. Patrick had a heart of gold, and that was exactly the reason why she’d fallen in love with him in the first place.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mommy will take care of you until your Dad is ready.”

David only gurgled at her from his crib, completely unaware of her current dilemma. He knew nothing about the tragedy in his mother’s past, nothing about the sister he was never going to meet. She wondered what Charlotte would think of her baby brother, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

Wherever she was now, Charlotte was probably grinning at the sight of her Mom speaking to a child that shared her hazel eyes and beautiful smile. She would watch over him, no matter what.


	8. Chapter 7 – You Never Know

He was running through his wife’s old notes on the Red John case over and over again. Even though she’d had to admit she was no real psychic after her spectacular failure with the serial killer, he still knew she’d always had a good running knowledge of psychology in order to better pull her act.

_Red John is as elusive as a shadow. He’s one of those nondescript men that always go unnoticed, and that’s one of the reasons he started killing. He wanted the world to notice him, but at the same time it’s useful that people never seem to remember anything about him after a casual encounter._

An elusive shadow. Had he believed in ghosts, Jane would have definitely gone for the theory that the serial killer might be one of them.

It was true that no one ever seemed to notice him in the vicinity of the crime scene. And they had no evidence whatsoever that could help them narrow down the search.

They were still groping in the dark after years of investigation, even the CBI seemed to have made little to no progress ever since they had taken over the case.

In the end he flipped the small notebook closed and wandered off in search of an invigorating cup of Earl Grey. He furrowed his brow as a white envelope slipped out of the cupboard where he kept his favorite brand of tea.

His heart picked up speed as he noticed there was no address on it, just like had happened on a previous occasion. He wasted no time and tore it open.

 

_Dear Mr. Jane,_

_I’ve been disappointed that you disregarded my last message._

_Your wife has a beautiful son now, I think you wouldn’t like it if something happened to him. He’s the half-brother of your late daughter after all, and I know how much of a knight in shining armor you are._

_I’ve seen it with my own eyes that you can never resist the call of a damsel in distress. I hope you won’t allow for your poor wife to be deprived of yet another child._

A moment later he burst into Lisbon’s office; she didn’t even yell at him when she saw the look on his face.

“Red John?” she asked, though she knew the answer already.

“He sent me another message. He says he will hurt my wife if I refuse to play along with his game.”

Jane ignored the small pang of guilt as he purposely failed to mention the child. He’d never told Lisbon about his existence, and for some reason that he couldn’t quite place he didn’t feel like doing it now.

“The FBI is already keeping a discreet eye on her, as Red John probably knows. He would never run the risk of being caught red-handed; I think he’s just enjoying the effect his threats have on you.”

He took a deep breath and sunk onto her couch. Of course Lisbon’s argument made perfect sense, he didn’t know why he had never taken into account the possibility that the law enforcement would do their best to try and protect every likely target of the serial killer.

Still, his wife had been right, Red John was so elusive that he could slip unnoticed even by trained professionals like the FBI. And it wasn’t only about a damsel in distress this time, there was also an innocent child to add to the mix.

His head reeled as something clinched inside his mind, something he had failed to notice before. In his letter Red John had mentioned _seeing_ him rush to the defense of a helpless woman, and all of a sudden he remembered an episode that dated back to his carnie days.

He had been looking for Angela after a show, when he’d heard her cry for help. A drunken client was nothing but persistent in trying to get more out of her than a simple reading, and he didn’t think twice before knocking the guy to the ground.

As they walked away they’d ran into a stranger who patted them on the back and congratulated him for being the perfect gentleman who’d just saved his lady’s virtue.

Such a phrasing had sounded odd to him even back then, not to mention the fact that the stranger hadn’t moved a finger to help Angela himself. But now…

“I think I know who he is.”

“What?”

Lisbon was staring at him as if he’d suddenly gone crazy. He knew it was a very long shot, but he had a hunch that his sudden inspiration might be correct after all. The man he recalled looked nothing but elusive, and he would have never remembered about him if it hadn’t been for such an unexpected coincidence. However, he was pretty sure he could still identify him after all those years.

“I need someone to draw an identikit picture for me. I’d bet my bottom dollar that I’ve met Red John in the past, and my memory palace has never failed me so far.”

 

* * *

 

Lisbon stared in surprise when a name popped up on her computer screen at long last. She hadn’t dared to hope that their identikit would actually fit someone in the databases that the CBI currently had access to, but it looked like she was wrong after all.

In no time she and Jane were out of the office and inside her car. The DA had promised that the arrest warrant was on its way, it would be in their hands before they reached their intended destination.

There were a lot of questions that a certain Mr. Jackson Brown had to answer to, hopefully once he was safely behind bars. She prayed to God that it was for real this time, and that the serial killer was going to be only a bad memory in the nearest future.

They were already halfway to Mr. Brown’s residence when Jane’s cellphone rang.

“I’d better take this one,” he said.

She simply nodded, then turned her eyes back to the street.

 

* * *

 

He’d never been more torn in his entire life. On one side there was the serial killer that had murdered his daughter, on the other his wife being rushed to the ER halfway across the country.

A shattered Danny Ruskin begged him to come over the phone, he tried to tell him he was in the middle of a police operation but didn’t have the heart to turn him down in the end.

Lisbon herself told him he had to go, so he simply got out of her car and called a cab. Then he jumped on the first flight to Iowa, and now he was there at Angela’s bedside.

It wasn’t anybody’s fault, the other driver had had a stroke and his car had crashed against hers. Luckily she had left the kid at home with her brother, otherwise he would probably be dead by now.

The doctor told him there was little chance she would survive, but she could still recover consciousness before the end, and he hoped he would be able to talk to her once more.

The last time he’d seen her they had parted in bitterness, he didn’t want her to leave this world without knowing that she was forgiven. It had taken him way too long to understand it, but now as he was standing beside her deathbed he knew he’d never stopped loving her in spite of everything.

He had been blind, but he could see again at long last.

“Patrick,” she breathed softly at some point during the night.

He covered her hand with his own and squeezed it gently. “I’m sorry, Angie. I’ve said some horrible things, but I didn’t really mean them.”

“It’s okay. Just – promise me – one thing.”

“Whatever you want.”

Her face was pale and scarred, but she looked at peace at last.

“I’d like to be – buried – beside Charlotte,” she managed to whisper eventually.

His eyes filled with tears at her request. “And you will be.”

She smiled softly. “Love you, Patrick. Take care of my child.”

Then her eyes closed one last time, and he allowed grief to take over him at length. He’d just lost another person he deeply cared about, he didn’t know how he was going to withstand the inevitable heartache after all he’d already been through.

The hospital staff didn’t dare to interfere with his mourning until the first light of dawn began to filter through the blinds.


	9. Chapter 8 – Let The Tears Fall

It had been a long rambling day, Lisbon could hardly believe it was finally over as she dragged herself inside her apartment and sunk onto the couch.

Jackson Brown had refused to come in quietly; he’d pulled a gun on her as soon as she stepped into his house, there was nothing left for her to do but shoot.

She was pretty sure he’d seen right through them and decided there was no better way to end his career than suicide by cop. They’d found plenty of proof about his secret hobby hidden in the basement, it seemed that he’d been collecting items that had previously belonged to each of his victims.

Her eyes had brimmed with tears when the forensics dug out a minute plastic teacup that was unmistakably a little girl’s toy. She made a mental note to give it back to Jane as soon as the case was definitively closed.

Speaking of Jane, she’d been worried about him all day long. However, she knew it was quite late in Iowa now; it wouldn’t do for her to call him at this moment in time, she would have to wait until the morning.

From the grim expression on his face as he was talking to his brother-in-law, Lisbon had gathered there was little to no chance that his wife was going to survive. Her heart clenched at the notion, she’d lost her own mother in a car crash too – and Jane looked so heartbroken she wished she could have gone with him, offered him a friendly shoulder when he needed it most.

Still, by the looks of things she had accomplished quite an important task today. Bringing down one of the deadliest serial killers in the history of California mattered to her in many ways; it was surely an achievement by itself, but she had done it mostly for her best friend.

She hoped it was enough for Jane to move on from the tragedy of his past. However, it seemed that fate had just brought upon him another one, and part of her was afraid it would be the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.

She tossed and turned in bed the whole night, until she finally drifted off with the first morning light.

 

* * *

 

Jane had spent the better part of the morning arranging things for the funeral. Danny was so broken he simply couldn’t bring himself to do anything at all, and there was Angela’s child that needed to be taken care of.

His heart sank a little as he looked upon David for the first time in months. The little boy had grown so much, now he was a toddler that was already striving to talk.

“Mo-mo,” was all the kid kept on saying, and he had to fight a lump in his throat at the thought that the kid was too young to understand that he would never see his mother again.

“Mommy can’t come now,” he said as he threaded his fingers through the boy’s soft hair. “I’ll be your daddy for a little while, okay?”

“Da-da,” David repeated meekly, clutching onto his favorite teddy bear.

When his cellphone rang, Jane had to take a moment to compose himself before answering.

“Lisbon. Is everything alright?”

_“We’ve got Red John. He’s dead now.”_

He furrowed his brow, it wasn’t easy for him to wrap his head around the unexpected notion.

“Dead? How?”

_“It’s a long story, I’ll tell you when you’re back. What about you?”_

Anxiety was apparent in her voice, it was endearing that she worried about him so much. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

“Angela passed away last night. I was able to exchange a few words with her before she died.”

There was a pause at the other end of the line. _“I’m sorry, Jane. If there’s anything I can do for you, you only have to mention it.”_

“Thank you, Teresa. You’re a good friend, I’d be lost without you.”

 _“Flattery will get you nowhere,”_ and the smallest of smiles touched his lips at her half-hearted attempt to lighten up the conversation.

He was pacing to and fro as he was talking, and David seemed to panic as soon as he noticed he wasn’t by his side.

“Da-da! Da-da!” the little boy called again and again, and he had to go and pick him up.

 _“Who’s that?”_ a bemused Lisbon asked after a full minute of silence.

Wearily he remembered that he’d always avoided telling her about the kid, and now he knew he couldn’t keep such a big secret from her anymore.

“He’s my wife’s child. I’m looking after him until I find a better solution.”

_“Wait, you never mentioned a kid before.”_

“That’s probably because I didn’t want other people to know that my wife had been cheating on me.”

He waited for a reply that never came, then figured that Lisbon was probably at a loss for words about the subject matter.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to find someone who can take care of him properly before I come back to Sacramento. I’m afraid that Danny won’t have him, and he isn’t exactly reliable anyway – but there’s always adoption or foster care.”

_“Are you really saying you want to put your wife’s child up for adoption?”_

“Well, he isn’t my son.”

However, his words lacked any conviction as he felt David’s innocent eyes on him. The boy resembled his mother so much, and his eyes were exactly like Charlotte’s.

He swallowed a couple of times, then was forced to acknowledge he didn’t really know what he wanted to do.

_“Bring him with you when you come back. This isn’t a decision you can take on the spur of the moment, you need some time to think it over.”_

What she was saying clearly made sense, and besides he knew from experience that she was usually right.

“Maybe. See you, Lisbon.”

David rested his head on Jane’s shoulder and twiddled the hair at the nape of his neck.

 

* * *

 

She had stopped at the mall on her way to Jane’s apartment, bought a stuffed animal and a children’s book. Now she was knocking at the door, patiently waiting for him to show up.

“Hi,” was all he said as he stepped aside and let her in.

“How are you?”

He smiled softly and lied with eased practice. “I’m fine.”

Both of them knew he was far from being fine, but Lisbon hoped that he would be in time. And she knew that David could turn out to be a blessing in disguise for him, whether Jane was willing to accept it or not.

“Where’s the kid?”

“Upstairs, with his nanny. She’ll take care of him until we work out what is the better option for him.”

“You’re his better option, Patrick.”

“It’s not like I’m his father.”

That was when she dropped the shopping bag she was carrying and looked him straight in his eyes.

“But you were in love with his mother, weren’t you?”

“Yes,” he admitted at long last. “I think I’ve never stopped loving her as a matter of fact.”

“Go mourn her then. Take some time to grieve her properly. I can look after things here until you’re ready.”

He pulled her into a bear hug, and she ran a soothing hand up and down his back.

“Thank you, Teresa,” he whispered in her ear, and she smiled.


	10. Chapter 9 – Home At Last

Jane spent a month in Malibu, restlessly pacing his empty house while trying to sort out his feelings. His old life has been buried along with his wife, who was now resting beside their daughter as he’d promised. And though he visited their graves daily as a stark reminder that they were no more, he still couldn’t bring himself to face the notion that it was time for him to move on.

He’d started talking to Charlotte of late, and even though she never answered he still felt her reassuring presence somehow. He told her things he would have never dared to, had she still been alive, about her mother and the way the two of them had drifted apart after her death. When he told her about her little brother still waiting for a new family back in Sacramento, he knew for sure what his daughter would have wanted him to do.

Angela and Charlotte would always hold a special place in his heart, but there were other people who loved and needed him now. Angela’s child was one, the other was the woman that had been his saving grace ever since they’d met.

David deserved a proper family, and he would make sure to give him one. So he made one last visit to the cemetery to say goodbye to his late family, then drove back to Sacramento to meet his new one.

The toddler gave him such a warm welcome it made him want to cry. As soon as he saw him David threw his slender arms around his neck and clutched onto him as if he never wanted to let him go.

“Da-da!” the little boy kept on chirping in his ear, and he squeezed him tightly against his chest.

“Daddy is back,” he murmured with conviction. “And he’s never going to leave you again.”

He cried for real when the nanny said that David had been asking about him all the time he’d been away. It seemed that the kid had taken an instant liking to him right from the start, though he suspected that Angela might have been showing him old pictures while he was away.

The next thing he did was dismiss the nanny, she only smiled when he said he wasn’t going to need her services anymore. He spent the rest of the day playing with David, until the kid fell asleep on his chest as they were sitting on the couch. Patrick’s eyes never left his face as he slept soundly with his head nestled in the hollow of his neck.

In the morning he made him breakfast and got him ready for a walk. It was time for them to pay a visit to a certain Teresa Lisbon; she’d been the one to try and bring them together in the first place, and now he wanted her to know she had just succeeded.

There were also other things he wanted from her, but all of them would come in due time.

 

* * *

 

A warm grin spread onto her face when she opened the door to find Patrick and David Jane standing on her threshold. The little boy was clinging onto her friend like a baby koala did with his mother, and she couldn’t help but ruffle his unruly hair as they went in.

“It’s good to see you back,” she said softly, carefully skirting around the feelings that they’d been sharing for quite some time now.

“It’s good to be back too,” and with one swift move he placed a chaste kiss at the corner of her mouth.

There would be a time for them to explore those feelings, but they had to thread carefully and just take this one step at a time. Jane was still recovering from the loss of his beloved wife, all the while trying to adjust to some sort of normal life again. The fact that he’d brought the kid with him made her hope for the best though.

“You were right, you know,” he muttered as if to answer her unspoken question. “I can’t give David away, it wouldn’t be right.”

“He’s such a good boy, you’ll enjoy being a father again.”

His eyes stared in the distance for a moment, and she knew he was thinking of his daughter.

“It’s all your fault, by the way. I think you owe me something for tricking me into this.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, he was clearly teasing her and she decided that two could play this game. “Do I really?”

A playful smirk tugged at his lips, he looked younger when he smiled. “The kid will need a mother too.”

Her heart was beating decidedly faster now, but she stubbornly refused to let it show. “I’m sure there are plenty of women who’d be happy to apply for that position.”

“Unfortunately for them, I’ve already set my eyes on a pretty lady cop. If she’s willing to have me, that is.”

“You’re really hopeless,” she laughed, then took David from his arms. “Do you want some hot cocoa, little man?”

The toddler only clapped his hands and graced her with a beatific grin.

 

* * *

 

It had been a long time since he’d last allowed himself to fully relax, and now he felt something strangely akin to peace wash over him at last. His grief wasn’t forgotten, but he’d eventually buried his past and his broken heart was slowly starting to heal at long last.

Now he could see David for the gift that he truly was; the little boy was the last good thing that his wife had left to him, and in some way she would always be there through her child. Not to mention the fact that Lisbon was already more than a little bit in love with the kid, he’d bet that David was going to have her wrapped around his little finger in no time.

As he watched the two of them sharing a cup of hot cocoa, dark smudges forming just under their noses, he closed his eyes and leaned comfortably against Lisbon’s couch.

All the rest didn’t matter; he was home at last.


End file.
